Chapter 1: Echoes of the Dead
Although the white crow seemed pretty much indifferent to Aleesia's efforts, it did take wing and land on her shoulder after she spoke to the spectre. The bird made no sounds, and it only stood on her shoulder for a few moments before it took wing again. It flew over Ahvylynn and towards the half-elf's ultimate goal.
The spectre bowed its head. "There is wonder-working power in the blood, for those with the fortitude to pay the price." The spectre said, its words ancient and formal. Then it gave an agonized cry and its spectral form dispersed violently in all directions. The terrible, agonized wailing continued without form to anchor it, but was cut off in tandem with the sound of a tree falling in the distance.
Abtin looked at Torstein with a dubious expression, but he didn't say anything against the warrior. "Perhaps it is good to stride forward like a lion; skulking in the shadows like a serpent for too long has made our people too comfortable in the darkness." The dusky skinned man said. He moved to follow Ahvylynn, and his footfalls made no sound and he left no tracks, disturbing neither fallen branch nor leaf nor any sod below his foot.
The small group made their way forward, and they were watched the entire way by members of Faaid's former tribe. These hidden warriors merely watched, and allowed it to be known they were watching. Some directive stayed their hands and caused them to allow themselves to be seen observing the group.
The path that the group followed took them to the tree they heard falling before. This tree was almost wholly blackened and rotted with corruption as it lay on the forest floor. Foulness wept from its stained and broken bark onto the earth below and the air was heavy with a tangible feeling of wrongness. To look upon the tree in this state was to know in one's soul that something pure and good had been befouled.
The trunk had broken, and around the stump was evidence of a profane ritual involving bloody sacrifice. The bodies of nine bandits, Men and Half-Orcs, lay in a rough circle around the stump. The faces of the bandits that could be seen revealed that they had died in terror and pain.
ar-Gohl stood near the stump, and his face was daubed with dried blood. There was a spark of madness in his eyes, and despite his advanced years he looked and held himself like a man in his physical prime. Beside him was a corpse in battle-damaged armour and clothing, marked in blood with runes. It was Grondstein's body, animated with loathsome and dark magic. A semi-transparent shadow overlaid Grondstein's form. It was of a warrior in ancient battle-plate wielding a grand sword. The shadow flickered every few beats of the heart, at times growing more solid only to lighten again.
The Star Elf from Aleesia's 'memory' was there as well. He looked exactly the same, untouched by the passing of time. A white robe covered his body, and in his hands was rune-etched staff of ash. A ring of carved and polished hematite decorated the ring finger of his left hand, and a somber look was on his face. The white crow was nearby, and it was picking over the corpse of a bandit. The Star Elf looked at Aleesia and his somber expression turned into an amused smirk.